


hopeless

by thisisnevergoingtowork



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Angst, Dark, Depression, F/M, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29607087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisnevergoingtowork/pseuds/thisisnevergoingtowork
Summary: In a long, detailed letter, old Elisabeth narrates to Angelica, a curious, young woman, all about how she was forced to move across the world, from cold England to busy New York, after her parent’s tragic death on her sixteenth birthday. There, she experiences a questionably different life than the one she was used to, back in quiet Leeds. Her aunt, very well-known in the Filmmaking industry and with terribly large amount of money in her possession, was no longer the affectionate, warm woman Elisabeth has grown to love and trust with her life. Cold, distant and ever so offensive, her aunt was making Elisabeth question herself and her abilities on a new level. On her quest to recover from her parent’s passing and trying to make a new life for herself after being home-schooled for a year and repeating senior grade in High School for the second time, Elisabeth meets Molly; a girl with a similar history with whom she connects almost immediately. Within the next year she is faced with life’s worse weapons; unfaithful friends, cheating boyfriends, periods of uncertainty and darkness that will devour her.
Relationships: Elisabeth / Nick





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Myself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myself/gifts).



The time has arrived, hasn’t it? Well… where shall I begin from?

New York is a wonderful place to live. They say it is the friendliest city you will ever visit, the most beautiful city one could ever want to see. At least that is what my 15-year-old self thought. It was too bad I never saw that city, for real. I was rather busy with dealing with my exceptionally mind-clouding issues to enjoy the city as much as I should have. It is a pity, of course. But on the other hand, you have to pick the time you’ll live in New York City. Because the city is, after all, the greatest city in the word for those whose mental health is as good as Santa’s. (Not to assume things, Angelica, but I think Santa’s mental health can’t be too damaged considering he lives with elves and other magical creatures and gets to travel the world at least one time a year). But all I felt while in New York was misery and every day that passed I wished to leave. And I did, eventually. But more on that later, of course.  
Now you gotta understand, Angelica, that when people are suffering from some sort of mental instability, everything seems awful. So to me, the beauty of the city made me sick. Its tall, grey and lifeless buildings hovering over me making me wish I would go back home every time I looked up to “admire” the skyscrapers. But, obviously, I was not always like that. It all started on September 21st 2010. I had just returned from school ready to be welcomed by my sweet family, but something strange had happened. Before I arrived home, my not-so-welcomed aunt Elisabeth, the person who I was named after, had decided to pay a visit to my parents. Aunt Elisabeth was not on the good side of my parents or brother to be exact. I never realized why and every time I asked, the answer was a bit hazy. My mother would either just scoff and exit the room or mumble profanities under her breath. My father on the other side would yell something along the lines of “I hate that bloody witch” or “She is a smug son of a bitch.” But no one actually answered my question.  
On the contrary, I loved aunt Elisabeth. She was so sweet every time she visited and would always bring gifts to my brother and I, only for my dad to throw them away to the dumpster after she had left our house. Eventually I learned how to hide them so he won’t throw them away. My dad was not a bad man, you have to understand that. And neither was my mother. They had both their own issues with my aunt and I never hold that against them.  
Anyways, aunt Lisa is a wonderful person. She is from my dad’s side and because of some “stupid tradition”, that is how my father used to call it, aunt Lisa would come to our house for dinner every Sunday. She would always come dressed up like a movie star with her hair done in big curls that reached her waist and a sparkly outfit that grabbed your attention even if you did not want it to. She loved to overdress on every occasion and absolutely adored to have everyone’s eyes on her.  
And that is what little me admired the most from my aunt Lisa and was so proud to be carrying the same name as her. Aunt Elisabeth and I would take casual strolls before dinner and talk about everything and everyone because as much as aunt Elisabeth loved to have people’s full attention on her she loved even more to gossip and criticize whoever did not like her. That was something I, fortunately, did not take from her. I decided to take everything worthy from my aunt and among many things was her love for her family—even if her family did not love her—her kindness to strangers and her need to help those who needed it.  
So you can imagine my devastation when I found out aunt Lizzie (yes, that is another pet name) would be moving to New York. It was that September evening when I saw my parents happier than ever. It was that day when I came back from school waiting to be greeted by my averagely sweet family when I was faced with my parents’ huge glowing smiles. It was weird and confusing until I discovered the reason for their happiness. It was almost an immediate decision of mine to move with my aunt in the big city. Only problem, I was only 15 at the time and my parents would not even think letting their youngest child move with their so-called “crazy aunt” across the world. So I had to stay in England until my 19th birthday and afterwards go to New York and live with her forever.  
Though, something terrible happened in the meantime. On my 16th birthday my parents died from a tragic car accident on their way home from an event. That day was a tragedy and it still is to this very moment that I am writing to you. And, if you will excuse me, I do not wish to talk further more about their death. It scarred me, of course, and it is still a very difficult task to talk about. My parents’ death caused me to stay with no legal guardian and since there was no will or any grandparents to take me home, I had to move in with my aunt Elisabeth. I would’ve never imagined that the reason I would move to New York City with my aunt would be the death of my parents. But I appreciated it nonetheless that she took me to her house. Aunt Elisabeth had a busy schedule. She had made a reputation of herself as an actress so I was very grateful she accepted me into her life. My brother, being nineteen at the time, was free to do whatever he desired. So he stayed at our house for about a year, before putting it for renting and distancing himself from me.  
The following year was tough for young Elisabeth. My aunt made me go to therapy and I went through four different psychologists since I could not open up and was unwilling to cooperate. They all got fed up with me and eventually they reached a point of disappointment and tiredness, which made them quit. I was homeschooled in the middle of the year because I lacked participation and my aunt realized that public school was not something I could handle at the moment. During the holidays I stayed in my aunt’s huge apartment with Gloria, my aunt’s assistant/maid, while aunt Lisa  
was in France with her new boyfriend celebrating the New Year. I made no friends and had no boyfriends. I went back to school for senior year because Gloria was too busy to be my teacher, but failed all of my classes and had to repeat the year. That was when I decided to change as a person. I tried studying more, finding a purpose, something to live for.  
So from the beginning of the year I started studying more, waking up earlier so I can get ready. I was taking care of myself; or at least trying to. I also tried going to the gym, but that did not work out. I made some new friends. Or to be specific, one new friend. It was more than enough for me. Life seemed to get a little better moment by moment. Of course, good things only last in fairytales. And my life, sweetheart, was far from being a fairytale.  
But in that moment, when I stepped foot in my school attempting to go there as a senior for the second time, I had no idea what I would go through, how much of my life is going to be barbarically destroyed, how many people I will lose and how this is going to change me.  
I had no idea. I wish someone had prepared me for life in New York City. It would have been loads better. But do not be afraid, Angelica, I come out of it just fine…


	2. two

Going to high school as a senior for the second time is not as amusing as I thought it would be. I considered this as a second chance the universe had given me to get my life together. It turned out to be something a little bit more destructive (or disturbing one might say) than that. The first few days seemed hopeful, though. I had gone to school earlier than usual because my aunt was very excited about me having my second chance and getting my life together, so much that she had woken up an hour before she absolutely needed to, something very unusual for my aunt to do since she moved to New York. She used to stay up late with her friends after having a successful meeting, or a successful shooting for her latest film, or just because they are in New York, for crying out loud!  
You could not say that aunt Lisa was ever on time for anything, actually. But that day was special. She even decided to drive me herself to school instead of just ordering me a cab or making Howard, the sweet old man that my aunt had hired to take her wherever she needed, drive me to school. When we arrived, she looked at me and her eyes sparkled. I could easily get lost in her blue eyes that carried so much love for me and had so many stories to tell. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and wished me good luck. That was the last day I ever saw my aunt Elisabeth happy, Angelica .  
Since I was almost an hour early I was not expecting to see anyone there. I walked inside and greeted some teachers that quickly passed me through the hallways, all with a fake smile on their faces like they were actually excited to see me. I felt welcomed and a bit relieved, even though half of the teachers I greeted did not even remember who I am. Walking through the empty halls and classrooms of the school, remembering my previous year there and reminiscing on the times I used to cry myself through the day, I decided to sit at the bleachers and read my book just to get my last moment of peace and quiet before having to go to the first class of the my second year as a senior.  
“You have a lighter?” That was the first thing Molly ever said to me.  
And that is how I met my best friend. On the poorly constructed bleaches, the first day of our second run of senior year. She, as well, was going through her second try to succeed finishing High School. For an entire different reason, of course. That reason remains unknown to me to this day, Angelica and I can’t tell you how frustrating that is. It was cloudy that day and it looked as if it was going to start pouring rain any second, but she was in shorts and a tank top. She was not carrying a bag or anything to put her books in, her hair was messy and I could not help but notice her blond roots that differed from the rest of her black hair. She smelled of weed mixed with cheap perfume and had black under eye circles. But her eyes popped out the most. They were the most vibrant green I have ever seen in my entire life making me feel common with my boring blue ones. After I told her I did not carry a lighter with me because I do not smoke she laughed right there. When she realized I was not joking, she sat next to me and began listing the reasons smoking would be good for me but ignored every single one.  
After a little while she grew bored of me and my simple character and left me while yelling, “See you never, loser.” I did not take it personally considering I thought she was drunk. Turned out she was. I found that out later that same week when I attempted to go to a party one of my classmates was throwing in hopes I could meet some new people and make some new friends and she happened to be there. She saw me and her face lit up, which I thought was strange. She ran to me and hugged my waist, then proceeded to hand me a plastic red cup filled with some sort of beverage. “So, loser,” she told me while handing me the cup, “while you stand here looking,” she eyed me from the top of my head to the ends of my damaged shoes, “like that, I am going to go get us more drinks so we can get more drunk and get to know each other!” is what she said before disappearing into the crowd of sweaty teenagers. I thought I would never see her again and, honestly, I was fine with that. I was not interested in making friends with someone who smoked or drank. Soon I realized that there are not many teenagers who do not smoke or drink, which surprised me. So dwelled up in my own little, sad and lonely world the past two years that I had forgot how teenagers behaved, until that party reminded me. It was quite the experience to re-discover the “real world” when all I knew was a lame, full of crying one.  
Eventually, Molly found me sitting alone near the pool on one of the chairs. She sat next to me and handed me another plastic red cup but frowned when she saw the first plastic cup she previously had given me, still very much full.  
“So you do not drink either?” I shook my head ‘no’, something that she found odd and maybe even weird. She started emptying her drink while I stared at her in awe. I found it fascinating how someone so young could drink alcohol without flinching because it burns. And after seeing that she was fine, my cup seemed more interesting than how I saw it a few minutes ago. So I decided to take a big gulp of my beverage. I hated it. It burnt my throat and left me with a dreadful aftertaste. The second gulp was less terrible. So was the third and before I knew it I was holding two empty plastic red cups and spilling my guts, figuratively, to Molly. That day I told her all about my not so interesting life. I told her about my aunt Elisabeth who I thought had found a new boyfriend of some kind, about my older brother Nate, who at the time, I had not seen since my parents’ funeral and who had not tried to contact me and finally about my long lost parents who I still missed to that day. I talked for hours about them, every small detail I knew about my parents I told her just like how my dad used to expect my mom to have his breakfast ready every morning but he was responsible for dinner every other night. How my mother secretly wanted to dye her hair red but because my dad thought that only people with severe confidence issues dye their hair, she never did it. Once again I will remind you, Angelica, that my dad was not as bad as his words make him seem. In fact, he was one of the nicest people I knew.  
I told Molly everything. And I think at some point I started crying too.  
But she listened to all of it. She kept staring at me with those green eyes and even though she had drunk the same exact amount of alcohol I had, she seemed unfazed by it. (To be accurate though, it was my first time drinking ever so it was normal to be more vulnerable). And when I was done rambling on and on about my life’s problems, she sat on my chair and hugged me so tight it was like she was trying to take all of the pain I held in me all these years and put it in her. The next morning I woke up to a strange bedroom which later on I found out was Molly’s. And that is how I discovered that Molly lived alone in a small apartment near our school. When I asked where her parents were she did not answer but took my hand and led me to her car. She drove away to a cliff and at that moment I thought she would drive off the cliff killing us both, but instead she stopped the car and got out of it. I felt the urge to follow her, and that I did.  
We sat near the end of the cliff, dangling our feet on the air like we were not afraid to jump, ending our journey in this world there. It felt sort of liberating and scary at the same time; to realize how much power you have over yourself and that, at any given moment, you can end things quicker than you would think. But we did not. Instead, Molly talked to me about her family. Her little sister Sarah who was five years old when she knocked her head on a rock while she was running away from Molly who was playfully chasing her. Sarah was not looking where she was going; she kept her stare on her lovely sister behind her. She stepped on her shoe laces and tripped, hitting her head on a rock. Her parents, who watched the whole thing unravel before their eyes, ran to young Sarah screaming, but it was too late. When they returned home from the hospital, Molly’s dad had an intense mental breakdown which led to Molly being kicked out of her own house. Molly then went through the worst period of her life which, as she claimed, did not have an end. She discovered a great, in her opinion, way of getting the things she wanted and it was working just fine. I, on the other hand, found it disturbing using her body to get things but, of course, for the sake of her not murdering me, I kept that to myself. And as her story went on, I started losing hope for Molly having a happy life; especially when she expressed her love and addiction to alcohol and other substances. I was not surprised but I was definitely disappointed. All that until she mentioned Malcolm. Malcolm was a junior in college and she met him at a party the night she got kicked out of her second apartment. From what she told me about Malcolm, I understood that they had a real connection but she was not very interested in telling me further information about him.  
We stayed at the cliff for hours. We just talked about random things and laughed a lot. I do not remember many things besides what I’ve mentioned. I’m pretty sure there was alcohol at some point which Molly persuaded me on consuming. I won’t lie to you; I started drinking to feel closer to Molly. She was the first person to form a friendship with and I did everything to make her see that I was like her or that at least, I had a chance to become like her. Somehow, we got home without killing ourselves. The next day we woke up with a strange feeling of hope and the following week could be described life-changing for us. We were tired of life slapping us across the face and we were ready to take a hold of ourselves. So for the next 14 days we sat down and researched for colleges, talked with counselors about what major we should choose to follow and possible careers that could be right for us. We had a future ahead and we were ready to start working towards it.  
That was until our first test. We had a week to prepare for a Math quiz and Molly had become a bundle of nerves. She studied every single day or at least that is what she said. In reality she spent fifteen minutes looking at the cover of the book, ten minutes casually flipping through the pages of said book and a few seconds trying to actually study. The next hours that were supposed to be dedicated to her studying were wasted with some kids with no future that had an only interest hiding behind old uninhabited buildings drinking and smoking their problems away. And that is exactly what I expect Molly was doing.  
Of course, Molly was too prideful to admit that she was failing at doing such a simple thing. She decided to waste her time doing foolish things that only hurt her, instead of asking for my help. She was very distant, did not talk to me much during that time. That was until the day after our professor had handed us our test results and Molly’s grade did not match the effort she said she had put into studying. So, she decided to get heavily drunk at some guy’s, named Marvin, apartment.  
Ah, Marvin.  
He was someone quite special for me. Marvin was, at the time, going to college. He was at his junior year when I met him at that party. Molly had dragged me with her so we could ‘celebrate’ our big achievement, when in reality it was to sorrow the pain of another failure.


End file.
